GONE
by AshleyIsNoRobot
Summary: When Ken learns of Will and Emma's budding relationship, he goes off the handle and does the unthinkable. Can Will help Emma through it all?
1. Chapter 1

Will was keeping track.

It had been exactly one week since he had last seen Emma Pillsbury; they had been sitting in his apartment, drinking a glass of wine and establishing their relationship. They were celebrating the settling of his divorce and cuddling, which was something he began growing attached to. He had the itch in his arms where he needed someone to hold, and yet no one else would do, because no one held the same, petite frame as she did. No one else in the world could fit against him like she did.

He could remember, once, when they had gotten together as 'just friends' (for they agreed to put off any further relations until he was no longer linked to Terri in any way, shape, or form) and she had fallen asleep during a movie, her head coming to rest on his shoulder. He couldn't remember what movie it was, because it wasn't important; all he could remember was the peaceful look on her face as she cuddled up close to him. Will had taken to lay her out on the couch, but felt her fingers close over his wrist before he could walk away.

"No," she murmured drowsily, and that melted his heart.

So he had carried her into the bedroom and came to rest next to her, and in her unconscious state she had pulled herself to him and buried her face into his chest. He spent most of that night just watching her, noting all of her adorable habits (like the way her nose scrunched every now and then, and the way her hand kept finding his heart), and holding her close.

The night he last saw her had been, if it were possible, even better. The only downside of the night was the fact that Ken was calling her over and over again, as he quite often did, in his attempts to get her back. Finally, as it began to kill the mood, he remembered her taking a call and putting it to him simply that she was with Will and that wasn't going to change. The night, from there, had progressed quite swimmingly.

She always picked up the phone when he called, always answered the door. Once, she had called him when she was going to be an hour late for work so that he wouldn't worry -- the last thing he could think that Emma would ever do would be to run away. Ignore him. No, she wouldn't go to such lengths, and why would she have to? Things were going great and he hadn't done anything to mess it up (he made sure of that).

It wasn't as though he hadn't gone to greater lengths to find her. Every day, he made a trip over to her house and retrieved the spare key from beneath the door mat to look around. Each time was the same; her place was completely empty, everything untouched. Judging by the thin layer of dust collecting on the furniture, she hadn't even been home. Even all of her cleaning supplies were still underneath the sink in her bathroom, untouched. He didn't think that they were used to going a day without thorough use.

Principal Figgins hadn't heard from Emma, either, and she was always cautious to call off of work when she needed to. The police had been contacted but they were proving to be no help. Will spent his nights calling her over again, and he didn't think he stopped crying since day four. He'd called in a substitute to take over his Spanish classes as he searched, worried, wracked his brain for anything. He had even gone so far as to go through Emma's personal contact book to get her family's numbers. Nothing.

He missed her laugh. He missed the way her smile brightened her wide, beautiful brown eyes, the way her nose crinkled when he tickled her sides, the way she always tidied up his apartment when he wasn't looking. He missed the look on her face when he brought her flowers or cooked for her, missed the way her fingers wrapped around his much-larger hand when they watched a scary movie and the way she held onto him and cried when they watched something sad.

He thought of her tears; he could only imagine that they were flowing now. He didn't know what had happened, and didn't want to think about it (though he inevitably did, nonstop) but he knew it had to be drastic. She wouldn't do this without a motive. Someone would know where she was if something weren't wrong.

What if she was dead? The thought alone wrenched his heart and as he sat on the edge of his bed, the urge to be ill overcame him and he dodged into the bathroom. Emma was the sweetest person he had ever had the pleasure of meeting and he couldn't imagine anybody harming her in any way, shape, or form. She never harmed anyone, aside from maybe Ken, who had guilted her into being with him only by convincing her that no one else would ever want her. It was a terrible thing for Ken to do and yet it worked; as far as Will was concerned, he got what he deserved. But other than that, she was so dreadfully innocent. Her smile could light up his day, and he often times made a few extra trips to her office just for a pick-me-up.

As he wiped his mouth, he imagined, for a moment (much against his will), her mangled body on the side of the highway, or in a dumpster. He imagined that if she were alive, she would be frightened beyond belief. For a moment, after vomiting for perhaps the third time in a row, he allowed a selfish thought to wash over him as he wondered if she were thinking of him, wondered if she wished he were there to tell her everything was alright.

That is, if she were still alive.

Another wave of grief washed over him as he stood, quickly brushing his teeth. He slipped on a pair of shoes and stormed out of his apartment, on his way, once again, to see if she was home.


	2. Chapter 2

The house, as it always seemed to be, was dark and quiet as far as he could see. Will swept his hand over his eyes again as he unlocked the door, kicking off his shoes (even though he assumed she wasn't there, he still had the utmost respect for her). Sniffling, he reached over to turn on a light and froze in his place.

The last time he had been there, everything had been tidy. Neat and properly put in its' place. Now everything just looked ransacked, from the upturned chair in the corner to the cleaning products thrown everywhere. His jaw dropped and Will found the ability to walk, albeit slowly, as he crept around to survey the remains of her living room. When he reached the stairs he noticed a few spots of blood, some staining the carpet and some on the wall, and his heart dropped into his stomach.

He couldn't remember ever being so afraid.

It was then that his ears tuned into the running water coming from the bathroom, and as he ascended the stairs, he noticed that the second floor had been completely flooded. The tile in the bathroom was hidden beneath a good inch of water, and he swallowed hard, afraid to look up. Will didn't know what he was going to see; the pang in the pit of his stomach led him astray, and he finally glanced up expecting to see a floating body, but instead he saw her curled up in the bathtub, sobbing uncontrollably.

"Emma," he breathed, his heart breaking in two as he rushed over to shut off the tap, kneeling down in the water. She recognized her name and began to cry even harder, cowering away from him and hiding her face into her knees. He reached in and touched her arm, and she began to shake, and his arms closed around her as he pulled her out, onto his lap. She resisted at first, pushing weakly at his chest, though at the first stroke of her hair she collapsed against him in defeat.

Will had lost track of how long he held her in his arms before she calmed down. At that point her hair and body were completely dry, and her small fist had grabbed hold of his shirt, clinging desperately to him. It must have been an hour and a half, at least. He whispered her name again and that prompted her to curl up even more in his lap.

"P-p-p-p-ple-please d-don't…" Her tearful whispers were even more all over the place than usual, and she couldn't finish her thought, her body wrenching in another silent sob.

"I won't leave you," he swore in a hushed tone, and he rose to his feet with her in his arms, carrying her into the bedroom. Out of respect for her and her body, he wrapped a sheet completely around her before climbing in next to her, his arms enclosing around her again and he pulled her close to his chest. She grabbed his shirt and pulled herself even closer.

Will had never held anyone as tight as he was holding Emma at that moment. Last time he had held her, she had been smiling and laughing and smitten. Thinking of how fragile he found her then, he realized it didn't compare to the state of her now. She looked so afraid, the way she trembled and sobbed and held onto him as though he were her only chance for survival. He took a deep breath, blinking back a few tears as he whispered, "Emma, sweetheart, what…"

She buried her face into his chest, choking out a "thank you", and didn't answer his question. He pressed a kiss to her temple and didn't ask anything further, cradling her close to his chest as she fell asleep. He held Emma for a good three hours after that, and then he carefully pulled away, gently kissing her forehead.

Will was quiet as he began to clean her house, and by four in the morning he had scrubbed down everything but the flooding. He had even stopped crying long enough to get the blood up, though that alone was enough to traumatize him. That was blood. Emma's blood. _His Emma's blood. _He couldn't comprehend how anyone could have done anything to her. She was so precious, so beautiful. She didn't deserve to be in tears.

"Will!"

His attention snapped up as he heard his name being desperately called from the bedroom. He ran as fast as he possibly could to find her sitting upright, in another fit of tears. He lowered himself beside her, whispering, "I'm sorry, love. I'm here. I'm not moving again. I'm sorry.

All she could do was curl up in his arms and cry.


	3. Chapter 3

Emma had long since drifted back off to sleep, but not before spilling enough of the story that Will could piece the rest together. It was sporadic and she had to choke out most of the words, but he had the basic gist and was replaying certain passages over and over in his mind.

_I got home from your, uhm, house, a-and I g-got another call from Ken, but I didn't… Know it was him, he called under a different number or s-s-something. I should have known. He was angry, really, really angry, a-and t-told me that if I, uhm, didn't leave without t-telling anyone he'd hurt you. You, Will. I c-couldn't t-t-take th-that._

She had taken a deep breath to keep herself from crying again and as he pulled her closer, he reflected back on the situation. Emma had always urged that Ken was a good man, but thinking about it, Will figured she had probably only mentioned that to try and keep her feelings for the right man at the forefront of her mind (and apparently that had been a bad idea). Ken always seemed revengeful; licking Emma's car door handle when she rejected him, conflicting Football practice with Glee practice because of his jealousy, etc. The glares the two of them received in the hallways from the sporting coach were plentiful and full of hate - but this was just too far.

_I came home because I n-needed more gloves and m-money, and because I w-w-wanted to make sure he hadn't done anything t-to you while I was gone. I-it was only g-going to be a few minutes but h-he found me and came in and…_

Will was struck with guilt at the realization that this was all his fault. He knew she would never say that, never admit to it but it had to be his fault. If he weren't so smitten with Emma and if she weren't so smitten with him, this wouldn't be an issue. She could be smiling, happy. Not hurt, shattered, broken. This was killing him. She deserved to be happy. The heart wants what the heart wants, but he had to wonder if this was too large a price to pay for being in love. But he'd never leave her now. Hardly let her out of his sight, and he had a feeling she would be alright with that fact. After all, no harm could ever come to her while he was around. None at all.

_I wanted to call you, Will, I-I r-really did. I just… C-couldn't risk that. I care about you t-too much, I just… But I really wanted to see you, to hear your voice. It was killing me, not being able to be around you when I needed you most. B-but if I would have been, you could have…_

He made a shushing noise at that point, kissing her cheek gently. She didn't protest as he unraveled the blanket from around her, uneasily reaching down to take her legs and spread them just an inch. Her thighs were bruised and he supposed that was where the blood had come from, and as he moved her legs back to their previous position and began to pull the blanket up, tears in his eyes, she caught his hand and shook her head.

Will didn't question her motives, simply went along with them. He realized she just wanted to feel him, his skin, his arms, in their full capacity. She was crying as she reached over to unbutton his skirt and jeans, and he helped her pull them off before tugging the blanket over both of them, his arms closing around her again. He buried his face into the top of her head and both of them cried silently, until sleep had found her and he simply couldn't anymore.

He was so angry, and that emotion only intensified as his fingers ran softly over one of the bumps on her leg. He was going to kill Ken - or at least beat the man until the police got involved. Life in jail, or… Something. Anything. He just wanted to at least get in a punch. Needed to. No one touched Emma - his Emma - in an inappropriate manner, or one that would bring her any harm whatsoever. It just didn't happen. He wouldn't let it. Ken wouldn't get away with this, and he wouldn't strike again. If Ken wasn't getting beaten, Will wouldn't leave Emma's side. One of the two would be in his sight all day, every day. Always.


End file.
